Withstanding Destiny
by Megan Sleevewillow
Summary: The second world war has broken out, and Rick and Evelyn are trying to keep their family safe. But we can't have that, can we? Instead, they'll be pulled into a plot to find an ancient artifact that will mean certain victory for the Third Reich if the O'Connells don't get there first. Following my other fic "The Lost Sister."
1. Chapter 1

"Kit, do you need any help?" Evy called from the cellar as she handled a crate heavy with canned and jarred goods. The cellar, used mostly for storing wine in the years before the war, was now lined with crates of supplies, kegs of water, and makeshift bedding areas. After Lock-Nah and Hafez's cultists had broken into the house, Rick had renovated the cellar as a sort of shelter and, if all else failed, an escape tunnel now led to the sewers. The renovations came in handy with the outbreak of a second world war, especially when the Germans decided to start bombing London. Though the ceiling was a bit low for the taller members of the family, the mortared stone walls gave a sense of protection, should a bomb ever fall close to the O'Connells' manse.

"I'm fine, Evy, don't bother yourself!" Kit replied from the kitchen above. There was the clanking of a pot and the oven door opening and closing followed by the melodious humming of Evelyn's sister-in-law. The Egyptologist slid the crate into a little nook next to others and surveyed the cellar once more. The wooden floor squeaked, the light bulbs were bare, and the place was a bit too snug to be comfortable should the entire family seek refuge, but that situation would soon be remedied. The woman's stomach flipped with anxiety but she shook the feeling off. Now was not the time to falter. She climbed the ladder that jutted into the kitchen to witness Kit bent over, checking the inside of the oven once more. Evy had thought she had some vegetables to broil, but was surprised to see the domed top of a cake inside the oven.

"Kit –" The other woman quickly shut the oven door with a snap and straightened up, turning to Evy with a look of disconcert on her face. Five years had passed since Kit showed up on the O'Connells' doorstep, and those years had been sweet to her. She was no longer the frail waif that had shivered in the rain but a healthy woman with a swell around her middle. Her brown hair was pinned up to keep out of her while she cooked, and a blush of alarm was spreading across her cheeks. "What was that?" Evy demanded, head cocked to the side and hand placed firmly upon her hip.

Kit's blue eyes shifted to the doorway of the kitchen and then back to her sister-in-law's face. "It was supposed to be a surprise." Kit replied, her voice low as to not be overhead. "It's his birthday, and a gloomy birthday at that, and we could all use something sweet –"

"And the double egg ration you receive is for you and the baby." Evy scolded, though her words were gentle. "And I shudder to think where you found the extra sugar; I know we had none to spare."

Kit offered a sheepish smile. "Well, Jonathan –"

"I should have guessed." Evy huffed.

"_No_, he brought me some from the casino." Kit rebutted, shaking her head at her sister-in-law. "He can be resourceful, you know." Evy's expression made it clear she still disapproved, but Kit turned away from her, fluttering a hand in her direction. "You can let him know how irresponsible he is when he arrives." With that, the woman returned to the sink-side counter, where dough had been rolled and pressed into small circles.

The kitchen was small, but not oppressively so. The stove and two counter surfaces with a sink plopped in the middle lined the wall opposite the doorway. Cupboards hung overhead the surfaces, and the doorway to the pantry was found on the left wall. The icebox stood in the corner, and to the left of the doorway sat a table for five, used for most family meals instead of the formal dining room. The ladder still popped up out of the floor to the right of the doorway, but once closed a rug could be flipped over the trap door and no one would be the wiser. Evy walked to the stove top, stirring the ladle in a saucepan with what appeared to be brown gravy.

"What is this?" She queried as peas and chunks of potatoes surfaced.

"The beginnings of lunch." Kit replied, rolling and pressing out another circle of dough.

"But what –"

The front door opened and Jonathan's voice called from the front door. "Hello?" Upon not receiving an immediate answer, the man followed his first question with, "Did you all jump ship without me? That's so like you!"

"In here, Jonathan!" Kit bade, rolling out another disc of dough.

The casino owner entered, dressed from head to toe in an amber tweed suit. Gray had started to pepper the man's hair, but it was only noticeable if one looked very closely or when the light caught the lighter strands. Tucked beneath one arm was an obtuse white paper package and beneath the other his satchel. Jonathan gave Kit a kiss on the cheek after dropping his satchel on the table. "One rump roast, compliments of Izzy and the Ahm Shere kitchen staff." He informed the woman, handing her the obtuse package. "Oh, and before I forget –" He reached into the inside of his jacket. "News on the Italian Invasion!"

"Jonathan, you're the best!" Kit praised, giving him a peck on the cheek in kind. She sat the wrapped roast on the counter and pulled open the paper, her eyes voraciously reading as soon as print was visible.

"Don't I know it!" Jonathan agreed, turning to his sister. She leaned away from his greeting kiss on the cheek. "Whoa there, old mum, what's this all about?" The man asked, brow wrinkled in concern.

"Sugar?" Evy asked, a shapely dark brow arching. "Rump roast? There are rations in place for a reason, Jonathan."

"Oh, come off it Evy!" Jonathan urged, bopping his sister on the nose with his index finger. "The casino has a bit more freedom than the public, at least where rationing is concerned – And it's not like I didn't _pay_ for it –"

"Just because you can doesn't mean you should." Evelyn replied, crossing her arms.

"Yes, yes, I'm horrible and what's wrong with the world and so on and so forth. It's not, you know, the _Nazis_." Jonathan batted away her criticism with a wave of his hand. "Speaking of that, guess who quit writing her dissertation and has since absconded to Canada?" His hand drew a letter postmarked from America from inside his vest.

"She didn't –!" Evy cried, snatching the letter from Jonathan's hands.

"She did." Jonathan confirmed, grabbing a spoon from the drawer and sampling the gravy in the saucepan (after blowing on it to cool first). "Mm – Oh, Kit, why aren't you working in Ahm Shere's kitchen?" He demanded. "How did you get this gravy to taste so spectacular without a stewing bone?"

"Scorpion carcass." Kit replied from behind the broadsheet. Jonathan made a gagging noise and she peered over the top to find him scratching at his tongue with his fingernails. "Only joking." The woman quickly placated. "But I'm not telling."

"You have a strange sense of humor." Jonathan commented, drawing his handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiping his fingers clean.

"The Italian Invasion has failed and the offending forces are retreating from Egypt's shores. British forces are mobilizing to keep them out." Kit announced as she folded the newspaper, her brow furrowing. "The article's sketchy on the details." She let out a sigh, pursing her lips. "Well, it's something…"

"I cannot _believe_ Katrina left her doctorate program to help the war effort in Canada!" Evy exclaimed, folding the letter up and smacking it against Jonathan's chest.

Her brother winced slightly and replaced the letter in his vest. "Better than twiddling her thumbs waiting for the Yanks to join in." Jonathan replied. The man gave a dreamy sigh. "I always liked her, you know, real spitfire that one!"

"That wasn't what you said when she left for the States and didn't invite you to go with." Evy replied, reaching around Kit to grab dishes from one of the cupboards.

"I was hurt, to be sure, but uh… my first mistress is Ahm Shere." Jonathan gave himself an assuring nod. "Yes, and that's good enough for me right now." The man didn't sound convinced.

"Thank you for the paper, Jonathan." Kit said, hugging her sister-in-law's brother. "Why don't you have a seat? Alex is upstairs packing and Rick is to stay out of the kitchen on pain of death, but lunch should be ready soon."

"Actually, I spied a bottle of red wine _perfect_ for pairing with rump roast and gravy or…whatever in the cellar yesterday," Jonathan's eyes looked to his sister first, supplicating her before he turned his entire self towards her, "and I was wondering if maybe we might indulge a bit?"

Evy sighed, beginning to dole out plates upon the table. "Alright. If we're having cake and roast, might as well go all out."

"Smashing!" Jonathan declared, going to the ladder and taking the rungs down two at a time.

"Careful down there!" Evy warned. "There's a crate –" A large crash signaled that the man found it.

"I'm alright! Only a little bleeding!" The man called, his voice cracking.

Upstairs, Alex sullenly sat on his bed, his packed suitcase beside him. The adolescent gazed out the window onto the back garden. The leaves on the trees were already golden with autumn and some spiraled from their branches as the adolescent watched. The once grinning and diminutive boy had matured into an average (but still growing) scruffy-haired youth.

Rick entered, wearing his usual tan trousers and suspenders. A slight paunch puffed out his shirt, worry lines creased his forehead, and his hair was a few shades lighter, but he was still the same man Evy had met in the Cairo prison years ago. "All packed, sport?"

Alex looked at his father, his face grim. "Yeah. But I don't want to go." He confessed.

Rick's lips pursed and he closed the door behind him, nudging the suitcase back to join his son on the bed. "Yeah, I didn't think so." He murmured.

"I could stay and help Mum pack up things at the museum against further bombings, I could – I could collect scrap metal and work in a factory –" Alex began desperately.

"But we all talked and decided that it's not for the best, is it?" Rick placated. "Besides, the country house has a lot of things you could do both to keep busy and to help with the war. You're bound to have a far more interesting time there than here."

"I'm not a kid anymore, Dad." Alex objected, his face creasing into a frown. "Freddie's in the army –"

"Because he forged his papers." Rick cut his son short once more. "Your mother and I don't want that for you."

"And what about what I want?" Alex insisted. "I don't want to run off to the north for who knows how long while you and Mum and Uncle Jon are here with bombs falling and other boys are dying." Alex kicked at the floor, scuffing the toe of his shoe. "It feels cowardly."

"Sometimes the bravest thing a person can do is know when it's time to walk away." Father told son. Rick chewed on his lips and tasted his words before he spoke. "I'd feel the same, Alex. I'd want to stay. But you and your mom and Auntie Kit are the most important –"

"What about Uncle Jon?" Alex broke in.

Rick considered. "Him too. Look, you're all the most important people in the world to me. I need you to go north with Auntie Kit and be with her. I know she's not due for months, but I need her safe and I need you with her." Alex glowered at the ground, his face set like stone. "We all have to do things we don't like and this is one of those things."

"Do I have to be happy about it?" Alex grumbled, his eyes glancing back up to his father.

Rick sighed, lips pursing. "No. No you don't. But for now, I want you to stop frowning and put on a smile for your mother. She likes it even less than you do."

When father and son descended to the ground floor, the stewy smell of Cornish Pasties wafted from the kitchen. The taught and uncomfortable smile Alex forced upon his lips garnered a kiss from his mother and insistence upon him sitting down. Jonathan uncorked the bottle of wine just as Kit pulled the golden brown pasties from the oven, each with gravy bubbling from the slits in their centers. "Should you be standing so close to a hot heat source in your condition?" Rick playfully asked his sister as he nabbed a pasty from the pan. She flicked him on the wrist, her eyes chastising him without saying a word.

"You don't want to bake the bun in your oven that swiftly, do you?" Jonathan followed as he poured himself a draught of wine.

"I am refraining from replying because I will throw this pan at Jonathan if this conversation continues and I don't want to waste good beef." Kit responded, slowly dishing the pasties into a towel-lined bowl.

"Rick started it." Jonathan defended.

"And you escalated it." His brother-in-law rebutted.

Jonathan was lost for words and instead turned to his sister. "…Wine, Evy?"

"I'll have some." Alex announced, offering his glass.

"Oh no you won't, Alexander Rupert O'Connell." Evy replied, putting her palm over the glass' mouth. Both Jonathan and Alex looked disappointed. "It's milk for both you _and_ Kit."

"Thanks, Mum." Rick's sister commented as she sat the bowl of steaming pasties on the table. Rick pushed Kit's chair in once she was seated after doing the same for his wife. He sat, and the family started dishing up the pasties, talking while they tucked into their meal.

"Remember to call when you get there tonight." Rick reminded his son and sister. "Carter is going to be waiting up for you, and I know that the phone lines aren't what they used to be –" Rick prattled.

"We'll make sure we call." Kit placated her brother. "But there's more important things going on than courtesy calls."

"Not to me, there isn't." Rick grumbled.

"For goodness sake, you two." Evy sighed in exasperation. "Rick, it's your birthday, can we please talk about something else right now?" There was a beat of silence.

"Where'd you find beef, Auntie Kit?" Alex queried, biting into a pasty.

"The Ahm Shere kitchens." Jonathan responded after a deep sip from his cup. "Ohh, that's good wine. Happy birthday, Rick." The man toasted his brother-in-law, raising his glass before taking another deep pull.

"How old are you again?" Kit teased. "Ninety?"

"That makes you, what, eighty-fiveish?" Rick fired back.

"And as fertile as St. John the Baptist's mother, apparently." Kit laughed.

"But twice as pretty." Jonathan assured.

"How are things going at the museum, Mum?" Alex asked. "I know Dad came and grabbed me yesterday before I could finish packing up the cartouches with you."

"Well enough." Evy replied, swallowing her bit of pasty. "Much of the paintings are being taken out of London, but I'm afraid that the statuary and mummies are going to find homes somewhere in the city."

"They've survived two millennia, surely they can survive this." Jonathan stated.

"Not if a bomb –" Rick began.

"Rick, stay positive." Evelyn advised. Her husband nodded.

The family lapsed into silence once or twice, their thoughts no doubt dwelling on the pending departures. They all knew what lay ahead this day and the unanswered questions that it would leave did not comfort anyone at the kitchen table. It wasn't until Kit pushed her chair out and retrieved the small white cake from the pantry where it had been cooling that anyone's mood lightened. The small single-layer cake bore no confection other than a sprinkling of sugar and a couple of sliced strawberries. "Happy birthday!" The table cried out as Kit plunked the baked good in front of her brother.

Rick's face brightened and his eyes glimmered with joy as he looked to his sister. "How?" He queried.

"Jonathan helped." Kit informed him. "That's all you need to know."

Evy went to speak, but Jonathan stopped her vehemently, declaring, "We shall hear nothing of the black market, old mum! It's all legitimate!"

"Seriously?" Alex asked, eyebrow arched.

"You wound me, Alex. All of you do –"

"I didn't say anything." Rick objected.

"There was nothing to make frosting, but –" Kit spoke loudly, giving their previous subject a final ending. "But I was overly liberal with sugar, so –"

"If it tastes half as good as it looks, I don't think we'll need to worry about that."

"Just cavities." Alex mumbled.

"Nice one!" Jonathan declared, thumping his nephew on the back.

Kit smiled and grabbed a knife from a drawer before giving a start. "Oh! Candle! What's a birthday cake without a candle?" She disappeared into the pantry.

"This is fine –" Rick called out after her.

"No it isn't!" She replied, muffled from the pantry. A shapeless chunk of wax with a small charred wick was found and Rick's sister plunked it in the center of the treat. The wick was lit and the family sang a round of "Happy Birthday to You." The flame was snuffed out with a huff from Rick and misshapen lumps of cake were doled out to everyone around the table. Evy deferred hers to Alex, who couldn't finish his own piece, and so Jonathan was stuck with two and a half pieces of cake while Kit and Rick enjoyed their single servings.

"You said something about cavities, didn't you Alex?" Jonathan groaned as he finished the last crumbs of his pieces. "I think that ship has sailed – What did you do, Kit, put _all_ of the sugar in the batter?"

Kit looked shiftily from left to right. "...mmmmmmaybe."

Rick's eyes looked to the kitchen clock and giving a decisive nod, he stood, grabbing the dishes before anyone could object. They clattered into the sink and the man looked over his shoulder to his sister and son. "You guys should head out. Get your stuff, I'll take care of the dishes."

"I'll pull the car 'round!" Jonathan offered, slipping from his chair and out of the kitchen without another word.

"Ready for this?" Kit asked her nephew, offering a small smile.

Alex forced a grin. "Yeah. I'll just need to grab my stuff."

Jonathan was good to his word and had Rick's old car idling in the drive of the O'Connells' manse when the others exited the house, Kit and Alex each carrying their respective baggage. Golden leaves dappled the stone and a gentle autumn breeze lulled the boughs of the trees as Rick loaded the bags into the back and Evy coiled a scarf around her sister-in-law's neck. "You make sure to take extra good care of yourself, Kit." The woman commanded her sister-in-law. "Carter's informed of the situation and Mrs. Logan will make sure you have everything you need, but no pushing yourself."

"I promise I will be the very picture of prudence." Kit swore. She looked to the car. "It's all very well for you to save up gasoline rations for us, but wouldn't it be wiser for us to take the train?"

"I feel better knowing you both have a car, if you need it." Rick informed his sister. "Just in case."

Kit nodded and looked back to her sister-in-law. They embraced, and when Evy broke the hug to do the same to her sun, her eyes glittered with tears. She sniffled and gave her son a kiss upon the cheek. "Do what Auntie Kit says and behave yourself." She asked Alex. "We'll see each other again soon."

"Yes, Mum." Alex responded without enthusiasm. His false smiles had grown smaller and smaller until the present, at which point they were non-existent. His mother let out a sigh and gave him another kiss. "Don't mislabel the cartouches without me. Or something."

"'course not." Evy replied, her voice thickening with tears.

Kit had already given Jonathan and her brother her parting words. Jonathan ushered her into the car as Alex and his parents walked to the passenger side. Alex wasn't quite as tall as his father just yet, so Rick stooped down to come eye-to-eye with his son. "Be strong. Be good." He requested. "And this'll all be over before we know it."

"Yeah, yeah." Alex murmured. "I have a feeling it won't."

Rick mussed his son's hair and his wife gave Alex one more hug before the youth stepped into the car. Rick closed the door after him and leaned down to poke his head through the open window.

"Have everything you need? Papers, luggage?"

"We do. Papers at least – if we've forgotten anything, we'll manage." Kit assured.

"Better start making tracks. We'll talk soon." Rick pulled his head out of the window, pounded on the roof twice, and the car shifted into gear. Evy curled up in her husband's arms as they watched the car trundle off along the drive.

"And there they go." Jonathan murmured.

Evelyn sniffled in Rick's arms and he brushed away the tears she had restrained until now. "This is for the best."

"I know." She sniffed. "But that doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Well," Jonathan sighed, raising his hands to rest on the back of his head. "Now what do we do?"


	2. Chapter 2

Rick, Evelyn, and Jonathan watched as the car reached the end of the driveway and halted for a moment to turn onto the road. Just as the vehicle rumbled out of sight, another turned onto the drive for the O'Connells' manse. "Who could that be?" Evy murmured as the car approached. The auto was a staffing car bearing the dull green paint job of a military vehicle. The top was down, despite the cooling autumn day, and there were two men sitting in the front sit, both sporting gray-green officer's uniforms. Rick's arm tightened protectively around Evy as he looked closer – They were no one he recognized.

The casino owner, however, became agitated at their very sight. "That was a lovely meal, wasn't it?" The man asked, slowly taking sidesteps towards where his own car was parked. "But look at the time! I better get back to the casino –"

"Jonathan –" Rick began.

"You never know what trouble Izzy might have gotten into by himself! I'll ring you later tonight!" And with that, he briskly strode to his own car, hopping in and cranking the engine just as the staff car stopped in front of Rick and Evy. By the time the doors opened, Jonathan's car was speeding down the driveway.

"Hello there." The passenger of the staffing car greeted, circling around the hood to approach the couple. He was a tall, slim man with faded blond hair underneath his hat and a pencil-thin mustache lining the thin gap between his nose and upper lip. "How do you do?"

"Well enough." Evelyn answered. She looked just as her brother's car skidded around the corner at the drive's end without stopping. "And you?"

"The same." The driver responded, doffing his cap. He was a short, stocky man that reminded Rick rather much of a bulldog with his wide and squashed-looking nose and small squinty eyes. "We're looking for Mr. Richard and Dr. Evelyn O'Connell."

Evy looked to her husband, lips pressed into a thin line. "That's us. Can we help you?"

"We certainly hope so." The driver replied, doffing his cap to reveal a receding hairline that stood out in stark contrast with his dark hair.

"If this is about my brother-in-law –" Rick began.

"Oh no, no, nothing of the sort." The blond man replied. "I'm Colonel Foster, and this is Major Sebastian, British Army." Foster removed his hat. "We have a subject we'd like to discuss with you."

Evy's stomach prickled anxiously. This was a war, but with Alex and Kit's departure right before the officer's arrival, she could not help but feel ill at ease. "Would you like to come in?"

"We'd love to." Major Sebastian replied. "Your home is beautiful."

"Thank you." Evy replied as she and her husband turned towards their front door, leading the officers into their house. Rick held the door for them before following up in the rear, and a few moments later, the four of them filled the kitchen. The dishes were still drying and the aroma of Rick's birthday cake hung heavy in the air as Rick invited the men to take a seat at the kitchen table. Evy cracked the kitchen window to let fresh air replace the smell of the baked good just in case this _was_ related to Jonathan's carefree attitude about rationing. "Would you like some tea?"

"Thank you, but –" Sebastian began.

"We would be delighted." Colonel Foster replied, cutting off the other man. Rick busied himself with the cups and saucers, throwing Evy a weight glance of worry as she put the kettle on. Once the tea was ready, the O'Connells joined the officers at their kitchen table and Evy poured the tea.

"Your hospitality is wonderful." Foster complimented the woman, smiling. "We're very grateful." He declined the offered sugar and took a bracing sip from his cup. "This might seem very rushed and hurried and, well, _sudden_, but –"

"It's no secret that Britain is hurting." Sebastian began. His words were bitten off forcefully as he spoke, adding to his bulldoggish manner. "We've bombed by the Luftwaffe and the evacuation of Dunkirk could have been worse – Bottom line, we need an edge against Hitler and the Nazis. The whole world needs an edge."

The woman's brow knit together as she cast a glance to her husband. Rick looked just as perplexed as she was feeling at the moment. Were they relying on spreading propaganda door to door these days? "Of course." Evy replied, shifting her gaze from her husband to the officers. "But what does that have to do with us?"

"It's no secret that you're the most brilliant Egyptologist of your age and a rather accomplished archaeologist. In the latter regard, you both are." The colonel complimented, looking to Rick. "Your wealth was accumulated in Egypt and… both of your names have crossed the desk of the Foreign Secretary, one way or another." Evy's stomach twisted in knots, but she was unsure whether it was from fear or excitement. "What we are about to say does not leave this room, regardless of your decision. It is absolutely classified."

Rick spoke for the first time since sitting down. "It has to be, if they're sending a colonel and a major to deliver it in person." His hand reached over to take Evy's, giving it a squeeze. His wife glanced over to his face – did he seem to be holding his breath?

Foster was surprised, but Sebastian was unimpressed. "Forgot you had a few years as a French Foreign Legion under your belt, O'Connell. But yes. If things go as we hope, this might just be just what we need to win this war."

Evy joined her husband in holding breath. "Go on then." She quietly bade, not sure if she really wanted to hear what they had to say.

Foster placed his hand palm down on the table. "Hitler has an interest in the supernatural. Occultist, pagan, and even Christian forms of relics and power fascinate him. And through this he has found the location of an artifact that he believes to be the Spear of Destiny, also called –"

"The Lance of Longinus." All of the men looked to Evy sharply, astonishment riddling their features. She gave a shrug and explained to her husband, "It's the spear that pierced the side of Christ when he was on the cross. According to legend."

"Precisely." Foster said, nodding. "According to legend, Christ's holy blood imbued the spear with devastating power. He who holds it will become undefeatable." Evy heard her husband release a long-suffering sigh.

"There are many copies of it, fake relics the world over." Sebastian continued. "But Hitler's secret society has discovered the location of what they believe to be the true relic. In Egypt."

"Why does it always have to be Egypt?" Rick groaned. He rolled his head back and released another sigh.

"Alexandria had a patriarch right after the birth of Christ, so the distant land could have been assumed to be a safe resting place for such a relic even though the Romans –" Evy began.

Rick shook his head, stopping her words. His head rolled back to look at the woman sitting beside him. "That was rhetorical, hon."

Sebastian spoke louder to end their own little discussion and drive his point home. "No matter the reason why, Hitler is preparing to dispatch his own team to excavate the artifact and deliver it to him in Berlin. Now, I know this may all sound like fairy tales and hokum –" Husband and wife shot each other significant looks at the use of that phrase, "But His Majesty's Government believes that it might just give us the edge we need to stop Hitler in his tracks – To stop this entire war before it boils the world alive. And if nothing else, we need to stop Hitler from acquiring it." Sebastian paused for a moment and continued, "Even if it is a false relic… we don't want this to boost the morale of the Jerrys."

"We want you to stop Hitler from acquiring it." Foster declared, leaning forward ever so slightly. "We know it's a great deal to ask, and that it is unexpected." He added no further comfort to his words, instead following them with, "Should you accept, we would ask that you depart immediately to Egypt to try and intercept the spear before Hitler's men do. We have funds ready for your disposal as both compensation and in order to get whatever supplies you need. A private civilian plane is waiting for your departure at Wiltshire's air field tonight."

An uneasy silence fell over the kitchen. Evy could feel her heart pounding in her chest. What if it was a false relic? But what if it wasn't?

"You're making this sound too easy." Rick sighed. "It's never that easy."

There was a beat before Foster admitted, "We know. We don't pretend that it is. If you and Dr. O'Connell accept, you will face great danger in getting there and even greater danger once you arrive. If you agree to do this, you will be alone from this moment forward so as to not draw any suspicion."

"We need this to be quick, abrupt, and small. That's all that matters right now." Sebastian stated.

Evelyn looked to her husband. "Dear… We know what fairy tales and hokum can do." It was hardly ideal, but with Kit and Alex tucked safely away in the north, perhaps this was the best time for such an operation. And perhaps they _were_ most suited for the job.

Rick sighed. He rubbed his chin and considered the proposal for a moment. He looked to his wife and the two officers sitting across from them seemed to melt away as he replied, "Yeah. Are you up for it?"

"An adventure?" Evelyn cracked a smile to soothe the dark mood at the table. Fear suddenly gave way to giddiness. "Aren't I always?"

Smiling, Rick announced, "There's your answer, Colonel."

Colonel Foster smiled, while his companion just gave a curt nod. "Excellent." The colonel pulled a thick envelope from the inside of his jacket. "Here's your briefing…"

Meanwhile, miles away, Kit and Alex were trundling out of London and heading north. The city gradually faded away behind them, giving way to farmland and trees in short order. Alex stared at the window at the passing scenery like the broody youth he was, one hand glumly propping his head up.

Most of the ride had passed in silence, but with the metropolis behind them, Kit did her best to inspire conversation. "We should have asked your dad to get a radio in this old jalopy." She commented, glancing over to her nephew.

"Would have been boring either way." Alex replied, continuing to stare out the window. He leaned his forehead against the cool glass and rubbed against it, making a few squeaks.

"Boring?" Kit scoffed in a tone of disbelief, doing her best to imitate Jonathan. "When we get to the house, we'll have stair rails a plenty to ride down and free reign over everything – Well, when Carson isn't there – And you don't have to go to school. What's so bad about all of that?"

"The fact that we're hiding, that's what." Alex grumbled, pulling away from the window and leaving a smudge. He turned to face his aunt. "Mum and Dad don't entertain any illusions about that."

"Sometimes hiding is the smartest thing to do in a given situation." Kit replied, sounding just like her brother. "Except when it's not. Did I ever tell you about nicking that loaf of bread in Johannesburg and taking refuge in that hen house that –?"

"Had been cleared out by snakes before you? Yes, Auntie Kit, you've told me." Alex sighed, sounding just like his father.

Kit pursed her lips and cast a sympathetic glance to her nephew. "I know it's awful. But your dad's your dad and your mom's your mom. You'll have plenty of opportunity to disobey them in the future so – What's this?" As Kit followed a bend in the road, she found the roadway ahead blocked by two trucks. The vehicles were nose-to-nose, effectively blockading the road and preventing any traffic from passing. The paint job of the cars was a nondescript gray, and the bed of the trucks were covered by framed flaps of canvas, concealing whatever might be inside. There were no signs of a detour or any reason why the road might be blocked. Four men in green-gray uniforms with pistols holstered on their hips loitered around the trucks, two sharing a smoke while they all chatted. Kit was already slowing down when one of them walked forward and raised a hand to stop the car.

"This is weird." Alex commented. "Why are they blocking the road?"

"No doubt we'll find out." Kit replied as the car came to a halt. Engine idling, Kit rolled down the window as the man who had stepped forward walked to the driver's side. Ash blond hair was neatly tucked beneath his cap, and a strong cleft chin complimented a rather handsome face. He flashed a white and toothy smile at the woman and doffed his cap as he spoke. "Good afternoon, miss. We've had reports of a wanted fugitive attempted to flee from London. May I please have identification?"

"Oh." Kit cast a wary glance to her nephew as she reached for the case with their passports and papers inside. As she reached into the case, the woman asked, "What is this fugitive's crime?"

"Black marketeering." The man replied, his smile still on his lips. "We're looking for any of his known associates.

"Oh." Alex found himself wondering for a moment if they could be looking for Uncle Jon. His aunt handed the man their passports and papers and waited. His blue eyes quickly scanned the picture and text attached before he handed them back to the woman. Opening the car door, he gently asked, "Would you be so kind as to step out of the car, miss? Him, too. We'll need to search the car before we let you proceed."

Kit didn't think to turn the idling car off and instead placed the papers back in the case before she opened stepped out of the car. Her skirt snapped in a brisk breeze and the man closed the car door behind her. "Don't you need to search –" She began to ask the man, but his hand swiftly dove into his trouser pocket and he extracted a hypodermic needle. Kit saw and snatched the man's wrist after he pulled the cap off with his teeth. "Alex, lock the doors!" Kit cried as her second hand reached up to grab the man's wrist as well. His free hand grasped Kit's throat, his fingers closed around it, and he pushed her against the car door. Kit's grip faltered for a moment on the man's wrist and he was able to plunge the needle into Kit's arm. The contents were depressed and Kit slid down the door to the ground.

"Auntie Kit!" Alex cried, but he quickly slammed his hand down on his lock and reached over to do the same to the driver's side.

The man stooped and tenderly picked the woman up, throwing the needle to the ground. "Get the boy," He barked to the others, cradling the unconscious woman in his arms as he quickly walked for the truck on the left. His comrades broke away from the truck, all drawing their guns as they approached the car.

The youth inside was doing his best not to panic as he watched the blond man lay Kit in the back of the truck to the left. He didn't know what was going on or what had happened to his aunt, but Alex did know that if he didn't do something and quick, he'd soon join her. He could see the whites of the men's eyes as he slipped behind the wheel, they were that close. Dad and Uncle Jon had given him a couple of rudimentary lessons in driving, but that was about it. "I know enough to get it into drive!" He murmured to himself as he looked at the wheel and pedals. The clutch ground as he tried to shift and the men began to yell, aiming their guns for the youth inside of the car. Alex's stomach was a tangled torrent of nerves when he finally got the car to shift. Auntie Kit was on the truck to the left and these wankers were all in front of the hood.

There was only one thing to do.

Alex hit the throttle and the car lurched forward, plowing through the three men. A gunshot went off, but all Alex knew was that _he_ wasn't dead as the car thudded over the men. His short drive was brought to a sudden halt as he collided with the nose of the right truck. Alex jerked forward against the wheel and groaned as a searing pain radiated through his chest. Above him, he saw a gunshot hole that splintered the glass around it in a type of cracked spider web pattern. Fingers shaking and mouth dry, he turned to look behind him and saw the three men on the ground, two of them still and one of them writhing. "I can't believe I just did –"

Another shot went off, shattering the passenger side window. The youth ducked and the bullet missed, but several more shots rang out. The driver's window shattered as well, cascading broken glass onto the boy. He stayed down until he heard a break in the firing and peeked up to find the blond man reloading his revolver. "Not so fast!" Alex murmured to himself. He threw the sputtering car into reverse, running over one of the downed men again. The blond man snapped the revolver's chamber back into place just as Alex ground the clutch and shifted into drive. He slammed his foot against the accelerator and ducked as the car raced toward the blond man. He got off one shot before deciding to try and run. Alex clipped the man and slammed on the brakes as soon as he heard the impact. Shaking, he looked at his passenger side mirror to find the man lying motionless in the dust. "Cripes…!" The adolescent breathed, finding his palms suddenly sweaty and his knees weak.

The car was sputtering as he backed up to the left truck. Stumbling out of the driver's side, he cast another glance at the four men and found them all to be satisfactorily immobile. Twitching back the canvas, Alex found his aunt unconscious. "Auntie Kit!" The youth cried, shaking the woman in a futile attempt to wake her up. He held his palm to her noise and felt the humid heat of breathing, which allowed him to breathe a small sigh of relief. What could he do now?

Alex quickly made the decision. He opened the back door of the car and, doing his best to keep his unconscious aunt from falling into the dust or falling in general, the youth struggled with her until he was able to bring her to rest in the back seat of the car.

"Make you comfortable…" Alex murmured to her as he positioned her as safely as he thought he could. His eyes looked to the mark on her arm where the needle had entered, and his stomach flipped like an acrobat. Why would they do this to Auntie Kit? _Who_ would do this? There was no answer he could conceivably think of. Alex had half a mind to go and search the men for any clue, but his eyes came to rest on his aunt's pregnant stomach. No, he had to get her help – Who knew what had been in that syringe?

Alex chewed on his lip as he closed the back door and slipped back into the driver's seat, brushing away as much broken glass as he could. A hospital was the logical choice, of course. But where? Alex shifted the car back into gear, ignoring the groans of protest from the crumpled front of the car. Wherever he had to go, Alex would find his aunt a hospital – and hopefully the car didn't give out and he didn't wreck the thing along the way.


	3. Chapter 3

"Got the tools?"

"Yeah. Got the crowbar?" Rick looked taken aback by his wife's question. She shrugged and slung her toolkit onto her shoulder. "What? I'd rather get in and get out than chisel away at the thing."

"I'll… get the crowbar." Rick replied, astonished, before heading upstairs.

It didn't take long for the couple to prepare for their journey. Evy stuffed a few changes of clothes and some necessities into suitcases while Rick dug their field equipment out from the study. By the time Rick returned to the kitchen, Evy had ensured all the lights were turned off and the cellar door was locked. "Ready?" Husband asked wife.

"Ready." Evy agreed. She picked up the handle of one of the suitcases and then paused. "Wait – Shouldn't we tell Jonathan? Or maybe get someone to stay in the house? I could ring Angeline quickly and ask her to pop over every day –"

"The sooner we leave, the sooner we can get back." Rick placated his wife. He walked around her back and stowed the crowbar in the roll-up toolkit "Pulling anyone else into this will just complicate things. And the papers are always warning about German spies –"

"You're right." Evy said, nodding. She sighed and headed for the front door, Rick following with his own suitcase. "I'd just feel better if someone knew." Her voice wavered for a second, and she stopped to look at her husband. "What if we don't come back, what if –?"

"Hey." Rick silenced his wife with a kiss. He pulled away and gently stroked a few curls away from her face. "We'll make it. After Imhotep and everything else, Nazis should be a cinch."

Evy smiled and gave her husband a kiss in kind. "I suppose so. Let's be off then." The pair left their house, locking the door behind them. Rick's car waited outside. The husband loaded their luggage while Evelyn slipped into the front seat.

"What if Alex and Kit call?" Evy asked when her husband joined her.

"Don't worry." Rick said, turning the engine on. "If you recall our conversation at lunch, I'm sure calling us will be the last thing on their minds."

"Come on, Dad, pick up!" Alex berated the hospital's telephone. His palms were still slick with sweat as he gripped the receiver, listening to the line ring repeatedly. After several fruitless moments, the operator came back onto the line. "It appears your party does not answer. Would you like to try again later?"

"Yeah." Alex sighed into the phone. "I'll do that." He hung up the receiver and ran a slick hand through his hair. Mum and Dad wouldn't have left the house today; at least he didn't think so. They had nothing to _do_. If anything, they would probably be canoodling on the couch which, now that Alex thought of it, made him feel a little sick. So why didn't they answer?

Alex had only been at the hospital for about fifteen minutes. With the car sputtering and making noises akin to that of a dying goat, Alex had arrived at the hospital, parked the car, and ran inside for assistance. Auntie Kit had quickly been taken from the car and wheeled into the bowels of the hospital, which left Alex to pace in agitation. The receptionist at the front desk had obliged Alex's request to telephone his parents, but with no answer and no further information about his aunt, Alex was growing increasingly agitated. What had those men done to her and why had they stopped them? Alex didn't know. He didn't even know if Auntie Kit was going to be alright – _no one was telling him anything_. "Probably because I'm just a 'dumb kid.'" Alex growled to himself, grinding his teeth.

He looked back to the telephone. If he couldn't get ahold of Mum and Dad, he might as well try Uncle Jon. He picked up the receiver, dialed the operator again, and waited as the line to Uncle Jon's office at Ahm Shere rang. "If Uncle Jon doesn't answer –" He muttered, turning to look at the hospital entrance. The interior of the hospital's entrance was sterile white wallpaper with a vague off-white damask design. The tile floor echoed whenever anyone walked on it, especially ladies wearing heels – which it seemed all of them did. A few benches and chairs lined the walls, and two double doors were propped open next to the reception desk, leading to the interior of the hospital. The entrance was directly across from the desk, and Alex turned just in time to see the doors open. In stumbled the blond man who had stopped them and who had injected Auntie Kit with whatever it was! Alex quickly dodged behind the desk, startling one of the two clerks sitting behind there.

"You're not supposed to –"

"Jonathan Carn—" He heard his uncle answer on the other line.

Ignoring the receptionist, Alex quickly rattled off into the receiver. "Uncle Jon, we're in trouble. Auntie Kit and I are at Sisters Hospital in St. Albans. Hurry." He offered the receiver back to the clerk who had chastised him. "Sorry."

"Get out from behind here!" The woman replied, accepting the receiver with a furrowed brow.

Alex swiveled around to the side of the desk and waited. He barely heard the man's voice above the beat of his heart as the man approached the desk. Did he follow them? Alex guessed he didn't run over everyone nearly as well as he should have, and the dented and mangled nose of his dad's car wasn't hard to miss when you'd been hit by it.

"I'm looking for someone – Uh, my wife, Katharine." Alex's blood froze to a stop. "She's pregnant with brown hair. My son brought her in –"

"Your son?" The clerk asked. "He's hiding right –"

Alex bolted from the side of the desk through the open double doors into the corridor. He heard the clerk shout that he wasn't allowed back there, but Alex continued running, footsteps slapping against the ground and echoing down the hallway. He took the first left he saw and then jerked open the door of a linen cupboard. Alex quickly slipped into the cramped closet and did his best to insinuate himself behind the piles of stacked linen. They'd follow him, no doubt about that, but if he could avoid detection long enough, maybe he could find Auntie Kit and then – Then what? What was he going to do with his unconscious and pregnant aunt?

Her entire arm was on fire, throbbing with every beat of her heart. Kit felt sluggish, foggy, and she could feel the child inside of her pushing against her ribs, hindering her attempts to breathe. She blinked twice and found herself lying on a bed in a stark white hospital room. A nurse was waiting at the foot of her bed, making adjustments to her chart. "There we are." She said with a bracing smile.

Kit tried to sit up, but her head spun. Instead, she flopped back down on her pillow. "What happened?"

"You were in a car accident." The nurse replied, offering a reassuring smile. "And before that, drugged with a barbiturate. It should be wearing off now."

Drugged? "It doesn't feel like it's wearing off." Kit muttered, rubbing her head. "What about my nephew, his name is Alex, he has blond hair –"

"He's the one who brought you in." The nurse replied. "He's waiting for you. He came through everything fine."

Kit tried to suck in a shallow breath as her child nestled in her ribs, crowding her lungs. "And –"

"While your child will have gotten some of the effects of the barbiturate dose, we believe that any long-term effects will be minimal." The nurse informed her. "We'll monitor you for a couple days. Once Dr. Marlowe gives you the all clear, we can see about when you might be able to go home."

_Home_. Oh, Rick and Evy were going to _love_ – whatever this was. Kit's head pounded, but she realized she would feel better having Alex in the room. She could talk with him about what happened and what occurred after she became unconscious. "Could Alex come in?"

"Of course." The nurse gave Kit another of her endless smiles, replaced the pencil onto the clipboard at the foot of the bed, and left through the windowed door.

Kit stared at the ceiling, her hands absentmindedly reaching down to cradle her stomach in her hands. "Calm down, there," she said quietly, "I need to breathe." The child, if they heard her, disregarded and instead nestled further against her lungs. Home sounded nice, but why had they been stopped? Kit really had no clue – and why was she drugged?

She suddenly heard a rhapsody of voices outside of her door. "– your wife is in that room there, but shouldn't we find your son first?" She heard a feminine voice ask.

"I'd rather check on my wife. She's pregnant, for God's sake, and if my son is just gallivanting around the hospital –"

Kit's stomach lurched. She sat up with slight difficulty, turning so her stocking feet hung over the side of the bed. They had refrained from changing her out of her traveling clothes but her shoes sat upon a stool next to the door. Kit toed into them and peaked out the window. The blond man that had jabbed the needle into her arm was speaking to two nurses.

Fear rattling her insides, Kit hugged the wall next to the door, looking across the room to the window that was too small for her to get through, and then to the bed. There was nothing she could use as a weapon unless – Hello! She jerked back the covers to reveal the opening in the mattress for the bedpan. Kit pulled the clean metal vessel out and resumed her stance against the wall, waiting.

"Yes, go find my son and bring him back so he can see his mother!" The man snapped, his voice growing louder. A nurse rebutted something, but Kit didn't catch it. She held her breath as the door swung open. The man looked to the empty bed, and just as he turned towards Kit, the woman raised the metal pan and clobbered him over the head with it as hard as she could. A dull _bong_ resounded through the room as the man crumpled to the floor. Kit threw the bedpan down on his face before she lurched over him, head spinning and ears ringing, into the corridor.

The two nurses were still without, and they both turned to Kit with alarm written all over their faces. "What was that?" One of them asked.

"That man is the one who – who injected me with –" The barbiturate definitely hadn't worn off, and Kit swerved drunkenly. One of the nurses steadied her. "I need to find my nephew, I need –"

Unexpectedly, Alex tumbled out of a linen closet in an explosion and tangle of towels, bed clothes, and dressing gowns. "There you are!" Alex cried.

"What is –" One the nurses demanded.

"The man's here, Auntie Kit!" Alex declared.

"I know, he's –" Kit looked back to her room and the body splayed in the doorway, only to see it shift with a groan.

"Call the police!" Alex cried to the nurses before grabbing his aunt's hand and taking off down the hallway. The corridor was a tunnel filled with echoes of ragged breathing, shouts, and footsteps as the pair ran towards the entrance. A loud crash and cries of alarm echoed from the nurses as Alex and Kit sprinted through the archway to the entrance.

"We need to get going, how'd you get here?" Kit asked her nephew breathlessly.

"I drove, of course!"

"Then where's the car?"

Alex smiled sheepishly as the clerks looked at the pair crossly, but then were preoccupied by the sounds coming from the hallway behind them. "The thing is – I don't think it'll start anymore."

"What did you _do_?" Kit questioned her nephew as the clerks ran past.

Shiftily, Alex looked from side to side, avoiding his aunt's eyes, and scratched his head. "I may have uh – Run some people over." Alex replied finally, giving a shrug.

"You _what_?!"

Alex gave a long suffering sigh and pulled her towards the doors. "Yell at me lat— Uncle Jon!"

Jonathan strolled through the hospital entrance at that moment, fedora pulled firmly on his head. "Alex – Kit!" He looked somewhat concerned as to why they were at a hospital, but upon seeing the pair alive and on their feet, he didn't seem further worried. "My boy, what was that phone call all about? What's happened?"

The sound of a gunshot followed by some screaming answered. Kit blanched and began pushing Jonathan out the door. "Just run."

"Run?" Jonathan echoed.

"Run!" Alex agreed. The three banged through the hospital doors to be greeted with Rick's badly damaged car, Jonathan's sleek white open Rolls Royce, and the remaining truck from the roadblock parked in front of the doors.

"Jonathan, penny knife!" Kit demanded, palm out to the man.

"But – What –?" Jonathan sputtered.

"Just do it!" Kit demanded. The man handed her the mother-of-pearl handled folding knife and she waddled to the truck as fast as she could, stabbing the front tire. It hissed when she pulled the knife out and she walked to the passenger's side and did the same with the other tire. Jonathan and Alex had loaded into his car by the time she stabbed the third tire, and it was at that moment that the blond man burst through the doors, gun in hand and blood pouring from a broken nose.

"Go, go, go!" Kit screamed, jerking the Rolls' passenger door open and barely getting one foot inside before Jonathan put the car into motion. Kit jerked her other foot in and slammed the door as the tires squealed. The blond man let off one shot, which ricocheted on the pavement, and then one more, which hit the passenger side mirror. Jonathan let out a yell, gunned the engine, and raced away from the hospital.

"What… in the _blazes_ did you two do after you left this afternoon?" Jonathan asked, breathless.

"Traffic stop." Kit replied, holding one half of her face in one hand. She looked over her shoulder at the receding hospital and did not see a vehicle in pursuit. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"Please, not in the car." The driver asked, and then seemed to process her answer. "Traffic… Traffic stop?" Jonathan stuttered. He looked in his rearview mirror to Alex, who just gave an exhausted shrug. "I… Whatever. Let's get you somewhere else."

The traffic stalled heading southwest out of London. "Forget this." Rick muttered. He turned the wheel, hit the throttle and lurched off through a side alley to try and find a different route.

"Don't think we left too late in the day, do you?" Evy questioned, her eyes looking warily to the skies. "I'd hate to be here if a raid started…"

"Don't start that." Rick warned, putting an arm around his wife. "We'll get out of here. I just hope the road to Wiltshire isn't this bad." His eyes glanced up to the rearview mirror and then back to the road.

Evelyn smiled softly and scooted over in her seat to join her husband, tucking her legs to the side so they didn't interfere with his shifting. "I do have to admit this is a bit exciting though, isn't it? I know that I'm worried about Kit and Alex in the north and Jonathan and… _Everything_, but this is a bit exciting." Her worry had slowly worn off once they left the house. Sure, things could go wrong, but recovering the Spear of Longinus… That was something Evelyn could look forward to, in theory.

"We certainly aren't boring." Rick replied with a smile, making a left turn.

Evelyn watched the houses roll by on the block before Rick made another left turn. Her eyebrows furrowed, but she said nothing until he once again took a left. "Darling, aren't we going in circles?"

"Yeah." Rick admitted. He pointed to his rearview mirror. "And so are they." Trundling along behind them was an old black car. "They followed us out of the traffic and made three left-hand turns on coincidence? I don't think so." Rick shifted and took a sudden right, speeding up.

"Who could they be?"

"Probably not friendly." Rick replied. "Maybe that paranoid propaganda is actually onto something."

Evy chewed her lip. "Let's go to Ahm Shere." She suggested. "The streets are far too congested to lose them."

"Yeah." Rick said, nodding. "There'll be so many cars in the valet line, maybe we can disappear – or ditch the car and take Jonathan's."

"You really think there will be a valet line?" Evy asked doubtfully as she continued to watch the black car follow them in the rearview mirror.

"Jonathan said business is booming." Rick muttered, accelerating as the car behind them attempted to catch up. "Apparently, war makes people desperate to forget about it." The car following them lurched closer and Evy could see that inside the cab were two men wearing black bowler hats.

A few minutes later, their car squealed to a stop outside of the casino, subverting the waiting lines. "Mr. O'Connell –" The valet stammered as the couple slipped from the cab.

"You know what to do, Hal." Rick said, tossing the man the keys and slapping a twenty pound note to his vest. Evy grabbed their bags, and with that, the two were ushered inside the casino by the doorman.

One would have never thought a war was going on the way the casino glittered inside. A live band played on the casino floor and mostly female dealers dealt in sequined costumes. Rick and Evy dodged waitresses and cigarette peddlers and took the roped off stairway by the Diamond of Osiris lounge up to the private offices of the casino. When Rick flung the door open, he was not very surprised to see Izzy present, but no Jonathan. Standing on a perch was Izzy's pet parrot, Fiona, preening as she cleaned her scarlet feathers. Izzy quickly moved to pull on his eye patch, but when he saw it was O'Connell, he didn't bother covering his perfectly good eye.

"O'Connell – O'Connell! What uh…" He looked between the man and his wife. "What are you doing here?"

"Where's Jonathan?" Rick demanded, closing the door behind them.

"Uh…" Izzy shuffled some papers around on his desk for a distraction. "Don't know."

"You don't know?" Rick echoed, disbelieving.

"I don't know!" Izzy confirmed, giving a shrug. "He got a phone call and lit out of here like a rocket. Said something about St. Albans."

Evy looked to Rick. "We could wait for him or – Izzy, is your car here?"

The pilot's brow furrowed. He put a finger into the air. "Hang on a minute... What's going on?"

Rick walked to the curtained windows that looked over the casino floor. He pulled back the translucent curtain and looked out. "We're being followed."

"I… am going to get shot." Izzy lamented very decidedly.

"Izzy, calm down!" Evelyn exclaimed. "Don't jump to conclusions."

"But I don't see 'em on the floor." Rick turned back to his old friend. "Do you have a car or not?"

Izzy hesitantly shook his head. "I get a taxi to the casino or catch the train – Not much sense driving when gasoline is rationed, now is it?"

"Damn." Rick cursed, hitting the wastepaper basket with his foot.

"Now, now," Izzy began, putting both hands up. "You're safe here. After all, not just anyone can –"

The door burst open and in piled Jonathan, Alex, and Kit, all looking windblown and the woman looking a little unsteady on her feet.

"The hell?!" Rick shouted, a vein bulging in his forehead.

"Kit, Alex, what are you doing here?" Evelyn asked, mouth agape in surprise.

"Well what are you doing here?" Jonathan asked, shrugging.

"What is _everyone_ doing here?" Izzy demanded. "This office is private!"

Alex put two fingers to his mouth and whistled to silence his family. "Mum, Dad, Auntie Kit and I were stopped on the way north. Auntie Kit was injected with something –"

"The nurse said it was a barbiturate, I should be fine." Kit assured Evelyn as her sister-in-law fluttered over to inspect the mark on her arm. "Though I do feel… off."

"And um… I got us out of there." Alex declared. "In a totally unrelated fact, Dad, your old car might not be in repairable condition."

"You got injected with –" Alex's father stopped and fixed him with an intense gaze. "Wait, what did you do to my car?" Rick asked, his brows furrowed.

"Well –"

"Fact is, someone might be following us." Kit said, batting her sister-in-law away. "I think it's safe to say that we're not going to be making it to the country house tonight."

"Rick, we need to make sure that Kit and Alex are safe before we head to Wiltshire." Evelyn remarked. "And them getting stopped, us getting followed, this can't be a coincidence."

"Someone knows where we're headed, then." Rick said definitively. "Otherwise, none of this makes sense. And they're trying to get at us from any angle they can."

"Where are _you_ going?" Jonathan asked. "Does this have anything to do with those… military blokes who showed up when I left?"

Thankfully, no one else asked any questions for a moment. Kit and Alex merely looked to Evy and Rick for an answer.

The co-owner of Ahm Shere, however, was not so easily placated into silence. "What in the bloody world is going on?" Izzy asked, completely befuddled.

Rick paced back to the window and drew the curtain back once more, looking to the casino floor just as two men in black bowler hats elbowed their way through the front doors. "It's official; we've got to get out of here." He looked back to his brother-in-law. "Car?"

"Whoever's following us knows the make." Jonathan replied with a shrug. "And it can only seat four comfortably."

"Damn it." His brother-in-law cursed, raking his fingers through his hair.

Izzy was very silent for a moment before raising a hand into the air. "Remember how I said I didn't have a car?" He asked.

"_Do_ you have one, Izzy?" Evy asked, breathless.

"…Not exactly." Izzy replied with a mischievous smile.


	4. Chapter 4

Moments later, the O'Connells, Jonathan, and Izzy were filing down the stairs, their destination being the underground car park beneath the casino. Jonathan shouted at one of the floor managers to keep an eye on the place while the bosses were gone and the group vanished into a lift. "You… have a _plane_ under your casino?" Rick asked when Izzy punched the button, eyebrows arching.

"In case of emergency." Izzy replied. "Or in case Jon's black market dealings with rations ever falls through –"

"You said you wouldn't tell anybody, you tosser!" Jonathan cried, taking off his fedora and beating Izzy upon the shoulder with it. His co-owner gingerly stepped away from Jonathan, placing Evelyn squarely between himself and the fedora-wielding man.

"Jonathan, when we get out of here, we are going to have a _very long_ talk." Evelyn informed her brother, her voice rigid as she snatched Jonathan's hat out of his hands.

Jonathan turned his palms upwards in supplication and let out an exasperated breath. "It's not like it's illegal –"

"That's funny, because it _is_ –"

"Mum, Uncle Jon, come on. There are more important things to worry about." Alex urged. He crossed his arms, leaned into the corner he stood next to, and muttered under his breath, "I am _so_ glad I never had a brother or sister –"

"Don't discount that just yet, Alex." His father objected. "There's plenty of –" The man was silenced by a terse look from his wife, her entire visage flushing ruby red.

"This discussion is becoming really awkward." Kit broke in before anyone else could add their piece. The lift came to a stop and the pregnant woman jerked the gate open. "Can we just get into the plane?"

The lift opened to the underground car park, in which Izzy's private plane took up most of the room. It was quite odd to see a lemon yellow airplane huddled among the few cars parked there, wings spread above them as though it were a mother goose protecting its goslings. Almost scraping the ceiling, the aircraft was a bulbous and stubby thing. Large windows allowed those inside to enjoy the view, but the body of the plane wasn't very roomy itself at maybe 1/8th of the 45 foot wingspan. "Isn't that a Percival Petrel Q6?" Rick queried, almost dropping the suitcase he carried when his eyes fell on the thing.

"Guilty." Izzy replied with a nervous shrug. "But isn't she a beaut?"

"I thought they were all put into service with the war…"

Izzy rubbed the back of his head anxiously and gave a shrug. "Well, this one ain't." He rebutted as he walked towards her. He turned talked over his shoulder as he continued walking. "You're welcome, by the way."

Rick sighed at the color and finished, "At least it's not a balloon."

"Do you really have to antagonize him, Rick?" Evy asked.

"You could at least say thank you." Alex huffed.

Rick rolled his eyes heavenward. "Izzy, thank you for letting us get out of here in a plane and not a balloon."

"_Dirigible_." Izzy stipulated, indignant. He looked to the uniformed attendant lingering in a small office right inside the closed gates leading outside.

The attendant's eyes widened and his lips parted in astonishment at the number of people that filed out of the lift. "Good evening, Mr. Buttons. How can I help?"

"Be a good boy and open the gate for us, would you?" Izzy flicked him a pound piece. "And seal it up tightly behind us."

The attendant fumbled for it, but caught it before it hit the ground. "Will do, sir."

The party hoisted themselves into the plane, Izzy leaping into the cockpit first with Rick at his side. The fuselage was outfitted with a four seats, each facing each other, and precious little room besides. The bags were secured near the entrance behind the miniature bar. "Of course the seats have to be tiny." Jonathan grumbled as he strapped in. "Why make them actually fit someone's rump when you can contribute to your drinking problem?"

"You're one to talk, Mr. Gin and Tonic!" Izzy called from the cockpit. He started up the engine and slowly began taxiing towards the gate as the attendant slid it open.

"Ever clipped a wing in here?" Rick asked, looking at the close columns and the gate opening, which looked too narrow for the plane's wingspan to squeeze through.

"Couple times. Finally got the hang of it." Rick shot Izzy a look that could incinerate flesh. "What? Really, no worries."

The yellow plane popped out of the car park with no clipped wings and lurched onto the road. Cars were becoming scarce as the sun set, but there were enough on the street to cause a commotion of honking horns and squealing tires as the plane merged into traffic. Rick arched an eyebrow and roared over the sound of the plane's motor, "You sure about this?"

Izzy sighed and rolled his eyes heavenward. "O'Connell, when have I ever let you down?"

"Well –"

"Malta _does not_ _count_."

"You guys are not inspiring confidence back here!" Kit called to Izzy and Rick from the fuselage. One hand was placed on her swollen stomach; the other gripped her seat-belt so tightly her knuckles were white. "And I'm still under the influence of barbiturate, so I have no idea how Evy and Alex are so calm."

"I think we're used to it." Alex confessed with a shrug. "Mum, we've been running from people since, what, before I was born?"

"What about me?" Jonathan asked, eyebrows furrowed like terse brown caterpillars.

"As long as I've known you, I've been under the impression that you're _never_ calm." Kit replied.

"…and you would be right."

The propellers whirled around frantically as Izzy coaxed the plane down the street, taking care not to get too close to any of the cars preceding them on the road. "Damn. We gotta find at least a mile of straight pavement, otherwise –"

Starkly different from the numbers of cars pulling off to the side of the road to make way for the misplaced plane, two vehicles barreled down the oncoming road towards the plane. Out of the window of one hung a man, his bowler blowing off in the wind as he pulled out what Rick discerned was a machine gun.

His eyes widened and he leaned back to look at his family in the fuselage. "If you're not already, buckle up, things are about to get a whole lot bumpier!"

"Who the _hell_ have you been messing with this time?!" Izzy demanded.

"I'll explain later, just get us in the air!" Rick commanded.

The double engines whirred and the plane began to bump slightly as the craft picked up speed, throttling towards the cars. All of the cars that had no interest in being hit by a plane had either driven or been run off the side of the road, leaving only the plane and the approaching black cars on the pavement. The man hanging out the window started shooting, ricocheting bullets off the nose of the plane. "Blast, bugger, damn, damn, _damn_!" Izzy cursed as the cars loomed closer.

"Get this thing up!" Rick yelled.

"What do you think I'm trying to do?"

Both men yelled as the planes and cars plummeted towards each other, both sure it would all end in a fiery crash. Jonathan leaned as far as he could to try and see the view from the cockpit, but saw nothing but instruments. Evy clutched her son's arm and Kit's fingers lost all color as the wheels began to rise off of the ground. As if the gods themselves reached down to give the aircraft a little boost, the Petrel lifted from the ground, properly its landing gear shattering the windshield of one of the cars and then clipping the edge of a roof as it soared into flight.

"Yaaaaaaaaaaaaah!" Izzy's cry faded away, as they cleared the roofs of the surrounding buildings and, pale and shaky, the pilot let out a whoop. "Yeah! Yeah!" He cried in jubilation, throwing his head back and letting out a sigh before turning his focus to the man beside him. Keeping the aircraft level with one hand, the man jabbed an accusing finger into Rick's face. "O'Connell, _you got my plane shot_."

"I'll get you a new paint job." Rick sighed, wiping perspiration from his forehead. "Preferably one that isn't as blinding as the sun." Izzy didn't reply to that; instead, he focused on flying. "Everyone alive back there?" Rick called into the cabin.

"Barely." Jonathan replied.

"Ditto." Alex added. "Mum almost ripped my arm off."

"Sorry, love." Evy apologized, releasing her grip on her son's forearm. He sighed in relief and rubbed it to regain the feeling in it.

"Now what, O'Connell?" Izzy grumbled. "Have anywhere I can dump you off?"

"Yeah. Egypt." Rick replied, unbuckling himself.

"Wha—"

"_Egypt_?!" Kit demanded from the fuselage, adding to Izzy's disbelief.

"Wouldn't Wiltshire be a better idea, dear?" Evy asked, trying to get a handle on the situation. "Then Izzy, Jon, Kit, and Alex all don't have to be pulled into this and they can catch a train back to London."

"I think we were pulled into this when those men attacked Auntie Kit, Mum." Alex replied. "You know, and then injected her with barbiturate –"

"Alex, attitude." His mother chastised.

"Why Egypt? What's going on?" Kit demanded, not letting Evelyn's suggestion or Alex's sass cloud up what Rick had said.

"Yeah, O'Connell." Izzy chipped in. "I am not coming along without knowing all the details first."

"I don't want to come along _at all_." Jonathan lamented.

Rick slipped from the cockpit and into the fuselage, rubbing his eyes. He braced himself on the back of the seat his wife and son sat in against the turbulence of the flight. "When you left," He began, looking to Kit and Alex, "A major and a colonel arrived. I'm oversimplifying, but they think that a spear thing –"

"The Spear of Longinus." Evy interrupted. "The spear that pierced the side of Christ and endows whomever holds it with the power of invincibility."

"—Thanks, hon. Anyhow, the Nazis are after it." Rick finished. "And if they get it, and if it's the real thing, it won't matter if America or anyone else joins in on the war. Hitler will win."

"And Rick and I have been tasked with getting it before the Germans do."

"Why would they go after Kit and Alex, then?" Izzy demanded from the cockpit. "If whoever those nutters were are trying to stop you both from going to Egypt, why send some of their people after a pregnant woman and an adolescent boy?"

"For ransom or some other dastardly purpose, of course." Jonathan sighed. "A barbiturate would incapacitate Kit and, probably, Alex. And then they could move them wherever they wanted."

"…I think 'incapacitate' is the biggest word I've ever heard you use, Uncle John." His nephew informed him.

"I get by, Alex, I get by just fine with my vocabulary."

"There's only one thing we can do, then." Kit informed her brother and sister-in-law. "We have to come with you. If we're with you, they can't very well take us hostage or whatever, can they?"

"No they can't." Evelyn commented. "But you know as well as I do –"

"The baby is moving just fine and my back is killing me, so the drug must be wearing off." Kit finished. "I'm not going to be climbing the pyramids or anything."

"Rick, get back here and help me fly this bird, then." Izzy demanded. "We can get there by tomorrow, but I'm gonna need some help."

A couple hours later, the plane took off from Belgrade, Yugoslavia, having avoided conflict over Germany due to Kit joining Izzy in the cockpit and lowering her voice into a rasp as she faked her way past the German Luftwaffe's questions. They had landed safely in the capital of the Allied nation, fueled up, and gotten some food before taking off again. It was late into the night and would be morning by the time the plane touched down in Alexandria.

"This is far more exciting than the country house, eh Auntie Kit?" Alex prattled. He showed no signs of fatigue as yet, and had spent the hours reading through the briefing his parents had received, speaking rhetorically about cricket and polo with Uncle Jon and baseball with his dad, and being quizzed in Latin by his mother. Kit had napped on and off, but had woken in time to set a foot on Yugoslavian soil and eat a stuffed pepper.

"I suppose, but there are no stair rails to ride down here." Kit conceded.

"…You can't even do that when you're pregnant."

"Yes, but I could have kept a lookout for Carter, so he wouldn't yell at you."

"Alex, why don't you go see if Izzy'll teach you a thing or two about flying." Rick suggested, pulling himself from the cockpit after spending hours hunched over the instruments. "He seems to be the only one fueled up as you. Well, and Kit, but I think Izzy needs some stimulating company." Izzy wasn't appearing groggy, but that was probably due to the large pot of coffee he begged off someone at the air base in Belgrade.

"Sure, Dad." The youth unbuckled, squeezed by his father, and slipped into the cockpit, pulling the privacy screen closed behind him. Rick sank into his son's seat next to his sleeping wife, whose forehead was resting against the hull of the plane next to the window. How she was able to sleep with the sound of the engine and Alex's chattering, Rick didn't know. Jonathan was curled up across from her, head rolled back and mouth wide open, snoring. Maybe that covered up the noise.

Kit blinked blearily and gave her brother a small smile. "Done being a copilot for the night?" She whispered.

"If Alex'll take the job, I don't see why." Rick said through a yawn. He tried to settle back into his seat as he surveyed the mark upon his sister's arm and her bulbous belly. "How are you doing?"

"Fine. Got a bit of a headache and, even with that stuffed pepper, I'm sure I could have eaten that mess hall out of house and home." Kit laughed softly. "It was really good, too, I'll have to make some once all this is over."

"I remember when Evy was pregnant with Alex, no food was safe from her appetite. It was like she was eating for four, not two." Rick allowed himself a laugh, and then quickly looked to assure himself that she was still asleep. "Uh… Do _not_ tell her I said that, by the way." Kit mimicked zipping her lips shut and smiled. "How's…" He rubbed his own paunch instead of asking directly.

"Moving a lot more since all of this started." Kit replied. "Which is good, the baby kept nesting under my ribs earlier – or yesterday? Is it past midnight? – and making it hard to breathe." Kit was quiet for a moment, rubbing her stomach thoughtfully before adding, "Long as they're moving, everything should be fine. Right?"

"You know, when we get to Alexandria we should… We should get you and Alex somewhere to stay. And probably Jonathan." Rick paused for a moment. "And Izzy too, I guess."

"You should take Alex with you." Kit insisted, her hand coming to a stop on her abdomen. "Don't leave him behind with his bloated aunt and his casino-peddling uncles. Take him with you. I'm sure he'll be of use."

"Yeah. And then when something happens…" Rick sighed, rubbing his eyes. "No. It's safer for him to stay behind."

"'course it's safer." Kit replied, rolling her eyes. "But come on, Rick. He's fourteen. He's not a child anymore. He's not a grown man, but he isn't a proper kid."

"You sound just like him."

"Good. He's sensible then." Kit rebutted. Rick narrowed his eyes at her and she raised her hands offensively. "All I'm saying is… give him a break, Rick. You're trying to keep him from growing up and if you don't let him stretch his wings now, he's going to resent you for it. Especially now when so many of his friends are off working or, heaven forbid, fighting and dying for their country."

"I thought I was the senior parent here." Rick muttered.

Kit shrugged. "It's not just that. Growing up with a mess of kids instead of a family teaches you the important stuff pretty quick. I may change my tune when this," She rubbed her bulged belly, "Comes along, but Alex just wants to help, Rick."

"Yeah." Rick frowned, rubbing the stubble that was coming in on his chin. "I'll think about it."

"Is that a true 'I'll think about it' or a 'Go to sleep and stop haranguing me' I'll think about it?"

"One of those."

The night passed with little trouble. As the sun began to rise, the sunshine colored plane soared over the Mediterranean Sea with Africa in its sites. "Where do you fancy I land this thing?" Izzy demanded, jerking the privacy screen open. Evy and Rick jerked awake at his demand and Kit, who had been watching the sun rise out of the window, straightened up. In the cockpit Alex had finally succumbed to sleep in the co-pilot's seat and Izzy, though still operating on Yugoslavian coffee, had big bags rimming his eyes and a dogged look. His stubble added to the very picture of a weary and long-suffering pilot.

"Any airfield in Alexandria that'll take us." Rick replied, trying to twist the kink out of his back. "British Army's there with the whole invasion thing. They should accept us relatively easy."

"And probably take my plane for the trouble." Izzy replied, grumbling.

"Have a little faith." Evy soothed. "We're working for them – or with them now, and we need a way home, don't we?" That brought a shadow of a smile to Izzy's lips.

"How did you even get to keep this with the war going on?" Rick asked, twisting in his seat to look into the cockpit.

"Er…" Izzy stuttered.

"Some RAF big wig had a steep tab at the casino." Jonathan replied from his seat where he was still trying to milk a few more moments of sleep. His eyes remained closed as he continued. "Izzy forgave it as long as he got to keep her."

"That's confidential, Carnahan." Izzy snapped.

"His tab could have bought me a new yacht." Jonathan complained.

"You already have one!" Izzy replied.

"Yes, but if I ever haul it to another Dunkirk Evacuation, it won't be up to snuff. I need a bigger one with a ridiculous amount of luxury to accommodate more of our nation's brave soldiers. Have you ever ridden across the Channel to evacuate scores of people? _I thought not_."

The radio suddenly crackled to life with a very demanding voice rattling off some words in Italian. "What's all this?" Izzy asked, grabbing the receiver. The words continued as nothing more than a heavily accented gibberish falling harshly on the ear. Izzy's eyes narrowed and he looked back into the cab. "Anyone speak Italian?" He demanded.

Kit shrugged and Evy twisted around to look in the cockpit. "Fake it. Perhaps if you garble enough words, they'll just figure it's radio static."

"Uh… Uh… _Bon giorno_!" Izzy spoke into the radio. "_Como talley vouz_—"

"That's French, you idiot!" Rick barked.

"They're neighbors!" Izzy replied in exasperation.

Alex jerked awake finally, rubbing his eyes. "What's going on?" He yawned.

"Italians on the radio." Izzy murmured. "No bloody idea what I'm saying –"

"Give me that." The boy snatched the receiver from the pilot's hands. He started speaking in Latin to no avail; his response was only angry shouting on the radio. "I… Guess they didn't understand."

The radio went dead and Izzy tensed up. "What do you reckon that means?"

On the horizon there was a puff of smoke. Izzy leaned forward, peering through the windows until he suddenly blanched. "Buckle up!" He cried before plummeting the plane into a dive. A screeching missile scorched the plane's hull as it barely missed them, exploding close enough to the tail to cause a decent amount of turbulence. "We're in trouble!"

"Alex, get out of there!" Rick commanded, unbuckling and lurching for the cockpit.

"Dad, I've got –"

"Out!" Rick barked, pulling his son from his seat before the boy hardly got a chance to unbuckle his belt. Rick replaced Alex with himself, hovering over the instruments and the second pair of controls. "Do we have any guns? Anything?" He demanded as his seat belt clicked.

"It's a civilian aircraft designed for smuggling, 'course it has no guns!" Izzy shrieked, pulling his pilot's cap firmly on his head.

"How far until we hit land?" Rick demanded.

"Phrasing!" Jonathan cried from the fuselage.

"What?" Evy asked.

"_Hit land_. I don't want to do that!"

"Alex, buckle up!"

"Er… Thirty miles." Izzy replied. "But I don't think we'll make five if they crack off another shot like that!"

"Push her – Give her all the juice you've got!" Rick demanded.

"That's the thing, O'Connell – _She hardly has any."_

_"What?!"_ Rick shouted.

Izzy released an aggravated sigh and gave a shrug. "Like I was going to tell you we might not make it in Yugoslavia! She only has a range of 750 miles!" There was another puff on the horizon.

Rick whipped to look back into the cabin. "Alright! We might be going down!" He looked from his wife to his son, his pregnant sister, and his brother-in-law. "If we're hit – Alex! Alex, I need you to pull open the door! Jon, you help him!" Rick's stomach roiled in knots as he continued. "If we hit the water, _get out as fast as you can_. Uh…." Sun was coming up in the east… "Swim to the right of the sun! If there's any wreckage, use that as a floatation device! Get to shore as quick as you can."

"Rick –" Evy cried.

"Hang on!" Izzy bellowed, sending the plane arcing up into the air. The missile scraped the belly of the plane, but it wasn't enough. There was an explosion as the shell made contact with the Petrel's tail. The roar was deafening as the aircraft lurched and smoke began seeping into the fuselage. Izzy screamed as the plane took a nose dive. "Get back there O'Connell! Get them out! I'll try and keep her in the air as long as –"

"You're a good pilot! You can do this Izzy!" Rick encouraged, clapping his old friend on the shoulder as he tore out of the cockpit.

Alex was already working on opening the door while Jonathan, Kit, and Evelyn braced themselves on the bar and one of the seats. As soon as the seals were breached, the speed of the floundering aircraft ripped the door from the plane's body. Rick worked to be heard above the roar. "You'll need to jump –"

"Rick, that jump could _kill_ Kit's baby." Evy objected, clutching her sister-in-law's hand.

"It'll happen anyway if I stay in here!" Kit objected.

Conflict flickered across Rick's face. Instead, he turned to Alex and Jonathan. "You go! Go!" Without waiting for consent, he grabbed his son by the collar of his shirt and shoved him out the door and Jonathan after him. He saw explosions of white foam in the water below, each showing where the other had landed. He then approached his wife. "You go. I'll wait here with Kit until Izzy puts her in the water."

"You get her out safe, Rick O'Connell. Izzy too!" Evelyn demanded. She kissed her husband briefly before leaping out of the plane, landing in another bloom of foam in the sea below.

"Hang on!" The pilot screamed. Izzy only managed to keep the plane afloat for a few seconds more. The nose plummeted into the Mediterranean and all of the windows ruptured, bathing Izzy, Rick, and Kit in the salt of the sea.


End file.
